


Recovery

by planetaryvenom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetaryvenom/pseuds/planetaryvenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't the first time Dean had woken from a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> First post, just fiddling and seeing how this site works.

It wasn't the first time Dean had woken from a nightmare. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself in his brothers arms, Sammy fast asleep, chest rising and falling evenly, Dean being calmed from his sudden wake by the warmth of his brother around him, his arms holding him tight.

Company, was what Dean called it.

_Companionship_ , being the only reason he never went out with a woman, and was instead bedding his brother. It didn't mean  _anything_. Sure, it was incest, but whatever, he'd done worse things so sue him.

Bobby knew, Jo knew, hell, even Cas knew, but it never stopped him and Sammy. Not once, because it meant  _nothing to him_.

It's bullshit.

It's bullshit and Dean knows it.

Yeah, company and someone to bone is always a good thing. Hell, it's a great thing, but it was more than just boning him. Dean loved his brother, whether it was romantically or brotherly – which made him think if it was brotherly why was he fucking him? – and Sam loved him back. Dean knew it.  _He knew it_.

He hoped it.

Sammy was all he had left. Everyone around him was gone. Except Sammy.

Maybe that was why Dean loved him. Because after everything, the dangerous, unconventional upbringing, the fights, the drinking, all of it, Sammy had stayed. Sure, he'd left a few times, but time apart is necessary in any relationship, so as those involved don't rip each other to shreds.

Maybe Sammy stayed because he loved Dean back, just as much.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly and opened them. He hadn't realised he'd left the bed until he felt a cool draught around his legs and groin.  
  
 _Ah, the wonders of dodgy motels._ He thought.

He would have picked up that bottle of scotch on the table, had he not heard that unmistakable gait of someone trying to be quiet. He knew that gait all too well, and he smiled to himself, the first real smile since the first of his friends and family died.

"Sammy,"

Sam didn't answer, but Dean felt his breath at his neck, arms around his waist, warmth of coiled muscle on his back, and he felt almost like he was at home again, home being his brother.

"Dean," He whispered back, voice tired from sleep.

No other words were uttered. There needn't be any other words. For what they didn't say, they made up for in small touches and body language. A tilt of the head here, twitch of a shoulder there. It was normal, well known between them, their own personal language that only they knew.

Dean's smile widened, as he tilted his head back, he chuckled, quietly, but deeply. The sound surprised Sam, it was a sound he hadn't heard in its purity in a  _long_  time.

Sam raised an eyebrow at that, but he too had a small smile on his face. Dean just shook his head, folding his hands over Sam's, which were entwined on his stomach, and they just stood there, for once not worrying about anything. They didn't worry about the demons, the angels, the leviathans or anything else. For once, they felt a small fragment of what could be happiness.

And Dean felt like, finally, he and his brother were on the road to recovery.


End file.
